


The Changeling Job

by knightinbrightfeathers



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Big Bang Challenge, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Human Trafficking, Kidnapping, Leverage Big Bang 2018, M/M, Multi, Pre-Poly, less dark than you think it is because i don't fuck with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 12:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16305005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinbrightfeathers/pseuds/knightinbrightfeathers
Summary: If faeries are after you, Eliot Spencer's the guy to call. Hired to bodyguard a woman who grew up among the fey, he finds himself getting attached to the people who hired him, especially his charge and her boyfriend. When Hardison, Nate and Sophie disappear on the job, Eliot and Parker must rescue them and bring down the bad guys - even if they are the Good Folk.





	1. we daren’t go a-hunting for fear of little men

**Author's Note:**

> Quick brief on terminology: there are a lot of names for faeries and I couldn't get them all in, but rest assured, I invented none of them. Neither did I invent all the defenses Eliot uses.  
> 'Changelings' are typically faery babies, adult faeries, or even just sticks with a bit of glamour on them, in place of a child stolen by the fae. In this fic, the term also applies to the human children taken.

“Eliot Spencer speaking.”

“ _ The _ Eliot Spencer?” asked a warm female voice. British, and carefully neutral in the way most people were when they called him.

“That’s me.”

“Lie,” said the voice. It was the easiest way to make sure you were talking to a human.

“The moon is made of cheese,” Eliot said. It’s a classic.

“The current President of the United States is a horse.”

Eliot grinned a little. He’d never heard that one before.

“My name is Sophie Deveraux.” Well, a name was more than plenty of people gave him at first, although it probably wasn’t her actual name. “A colleague of mine gave me this number. Apparently, you’re the best in the business.”

“And what business would that be?” Eliot asked. Flattery was common enough, and so were assumptions that he was still willing to do the kind of work he used to do. A few of those old jobs got his name out, and not in a good way. There was a distinctive type of person that thought he would do what they wanted because it was them, and because they were paying him.

“The security business.” Ms. Deveraux’s tone grew serious. “My colleagues and I require a bodyguard for a member of our team who is being hunted by the Fair Folk.”

Eliot sighed, careful not to let the phone pick it up. “Ma’am, I don’t bodyguard. I consult.”

“The person in question is a human changeling,” Ms. Deveraux said.

“That’s—” Eliot paused, mind already racing through the kind of precautions he’d have to take with a changeling. A human changeling, at that; the rarest of all, a person who’d been stolen away to the faery realm and gotten out. Someone who’d joined a human team. “There’ll be an additional fee.”

Sophie Deveraux named a number. It was a big number.

“I’ll take the job,” Eliot said.

-

The life of a security expert was decidedly unglamorous. Most people expected James Bond, and all but the most experienced were disappointed when they saw him in plaid and denim, with long hair and a face that had been punched one too many times. There was definitely no ejector seat in his car and he didn’t own a dumb poison dart pen. And shaking a martini diluted the alcohol.

It was a good thing that no one ever got to see the inside of his home. They probably wouldn’t be impressed by his perfectly seasoned cast iron pan or the eight different types of vinegar in his kitchen cupboards. But that was where Eliot was most himself, the self that the people he worked for didn’t expect and weren’t interested in.

-

Sophie Deveraux was waiting for him at the cafe they had agreed to meet at (not Starbucks - faeries loved Starbucks, for some reason.) She didn’t flinch when the iron beads in his bracelet brushed her skin, didn’t even notice, only withdrew her hand from the handshake and smiled at him.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Spencer.”

“Of course.”

“I’m afraid I took a cab here, so you’ll have to drive. Shall we?” She indicated his car and strode over to the passenger’s side. She wasn’t impatient, exactly — too in control for that — but she was definitely uncomfortable.

“How far are we going?” Eliot asks.

“Oh, not far. We’re staying in the city.”

Eliot’s estimation of this woman and her team went up a notch. The city was a safer place to hide from the fey than a hideout in the middle of nowhere in the country. More iron, more crowds, more protection.

He unlocked the car and slides into the driver’s seat. Deveraux settled into the passenger seat gingerly, like a woman who had no idea when the car she’s sitting in was last washed and has no trust in male cleanliness. It was a very distinctive pose.

“What’s the address?” Eliot asked, starting the car.

“I’ll direct you.”

They drove along in silence until her purse beeped, startling them both. Deveraux frowned and fished a block of wiring and lights out of her purse.

“Did you know that was there?” Eliot asked, tense. Lights and wiring immediately said ‘bomb’ to him, but Deveraux didn’t look frightened.

“It’s supposed to alert me when there are Fair Folk about, but it’s so annoying—” The device fell silent. “Oh, thank god.”

Three minutes later, it started beeping again.

“Does it actually work?” Eliot asked.

“Extremely well,” Deveraux said exasperatedly, tossing the gizmo back into her purse with excessive force. “Turn left here.”

-

Three people were waiting in the apartment Deveraux showed Eliot into, two men and a woman. The force with which Deveraux threw the faerie detector at the younger man was kind of impressive.

“Careful with that!” The man fumbled the gadget, sending it spinning into the air before he caught it and cradled it to his chest. “This is delicate specialized equipment!”

“Your delicate specialized equipment wouldn’t stop beeping on the way here,” Deveraux retorted.

“That means it’s  _ working _ .” The man shook his head. “Y’all don’t appreciate the work I do for you.”

“Sophie, Hardison,” the older man said mildly, and the other two quieted down. Hardison started inspecting his armful of wires for damages. “So. Spencer, is it?”

“That’s me,” Eliot agreed.

“Nate Ford.” Ford offered his hand to shake.

Eliot took it automatically. It was a firm handshake with eye contact, the kind that people think means that someone is honest but actually marks someone who’s been trained to look as honest and reliable as possible. “Wait, Nate Ford of IYS?”

“Formerly of IYS,” Ford corrected.

“Yeah, I heard,” Eliot said. It had showed up on his radar, a blip from a contact left over from his Moreau days. Nate Ford had been the best of the best before his son died and he dropped off the face of the earth. “I never would’ve expected to find you leading a team of thieves in Boston, though.”

“Man, tell me about it,” Hardison muttered, finally setting down the faerie detector. He stepped up to shake Eliot’s hand himself. “Alec Hardison.”

“Hardison’s our tech.”

“Excuse me?” Hardison exclaimed. “I am not just the tech guy. Who makes and maintains all of your covers? Who makes sure all of y’all’s disguises look right? Who makes all of your earpieces and fancy phones?”

“That’s tech, though,” Deveraux said from the couch.

“Rude,” Hardison mumbled.

“And that’s Parker,” Ford added, eyes flicking towards the ceiling, which was when Eliot realized the blonde woman he saw earlier had disappeared. He followed Ford’s gaze to see her perched on top of a light fixture.

“Hi,” Parker said.

“Parker, get down from the lamps!” Hardison shouted, his head stuck in a fridge. “Hey, where’s my orange soda?”

“Nobody but you touches that vile stuff,” Deveraux called back. “Parker, please come down here and meet Eliot.”

“I can meet him from here,” Parker said, but she leaped down from the light fixture, so fast that Eliot didn’t have time to shout before she was dangling from a harness in front of his face. “You look grumpy.”

“A lot of people think so.”

Parker nodded. “I like it.” She came down the last couple of feet and unbuckled her harness to join Sophie on the couch, leaving the harness dangling midair.

She was the changeling, Eliot was sure of it. It wasn’t just that Parker was weird. Plenty of people were weird.  _ Hardison _ was weird, the way he was cooing to his little gizmo like a parent. Eliot had seen people like Parker before, mostly working for Moreau – people who moved and behaved like they were used to a completely different world.

Eliot caught Ford’s eye and got a nod in return.

“Hey, Nate, Eliot, we’re starting the debrief,” Hardison called. He was standing in front of the largest screen Eliot had seen outside a movie theatre with a PowerPoint showing. Eliot winced; Hardison seemed like the kind of person who liked to use those slide animations. Still, he joined the others.

“So.” Hardison pressed the little clicker in his hand, displaying a photo of a ginger man with a hipster beard. “Meet Tom Learmont.”

Eliot snorted. Powerful as they may be, the fey could never resist their own folklore. “He isn’t actually named Tom Learmont, though.”

“Of course not. He’s one of the Good People, but Tom Learmont is what it says on his business cards. Officially he runs a small security company, but we all know what that means.” Hardison rolled his eyes. Eliot decided not to say that he did not in fact know what that meant. “He’s the kind of guy who likes doing things himself, so he doesn’t have that many actual steady employees. What we don’t know is why he’s after Parker.” Another click showed a bunch of security camera videos. “His men have been following Parker. Well, I say men, but none of them are human. He’s also tried contacting a few people we’ve worked with before, even called up one of Sophie’s old aliases.”

Deveraux pouted. “I liked that alias.”

“This guy’s even had someone try to hack us.”

Parker’s hand shot up. “We already know all this.”

“This is mostly for Eliot’s benefit, babe. Anyway, three days ago, Learmont had one of his guys contact us, pretended to be a potential client. That’s when I called you guys, Nate.”

“Right.” Ford rubbed his chin. “And we still don’t know what they want?”

“Nope. But I don’t think he knows we’re onto him.”

Ford nodded, considering. “Learmont’s employee who called you, what did you tell him?”

“Um, that we were overbooked.”

“I see.” Ford leaned forward and made eye contact with Parker. “What do you say?”

Parker crossed her arms. “What, you’re still going to listen to what I have to say?”

“Of course I am, Parker. This is your team now. I left you to lead it.”

“To lead me,” Hardison corrected. “You and Sophie left to go off honeymooning or whatever and you left Parker in charge of  _ me _ .”

Deveraux tsked. “Really, Hardison, now is not the time for your bedroom dynamics.”

“My – I – my what?” Hardison pointed a finger at her. “First of all, that is none of your business, and second of all, that is not what I was talking about and you know it!”

From his vantage point standing at the end of the couch, Eliot could see Parker come to a decision. “Okay. The Geneva Paso Doble?”

“Too long term,” Ford says. “Rainmaker?”

Parker shook her head. “Too risky. The Cherry Pie?”

“Not long enough.” Ford frowned. “We really just want to distract him so we can get into his files.”

“The Lazy Daschund,” Parker said.

Ford snapped and pointed at her. “Yes! Yes, good. We’ll do the Lazy Daschund. Sophie, you’ll be the ears and I’ll be the tail. Hardison will be our nose man.”

“Don’t play it too hard, baby,” Parker told Hardison.

“I won’t. Nate, who’s the feet?”

Ford gave Parker an apologetic grimace. “Usually it would be Parker, but we’ll have to run a modified version, split it between us.”

“No offence,” Eliot interrupted, “but I’m going to be staying back and watching over Parker, right? So I don’t need to know any of this. Just give me any intel you’ve got on the people following her.”

Everyone looked at him. Eliot crossed his arms.

“Yeah, okay,” Hardison said, breaking the silence. “I’ll show you around, too, so you know all the nooks and crannies of this place.”

“Me, too,” Parker said. “But you can’t come into the vents with me.”

“The vents.”

“Yeah, man, that’s her space,” Hardison said, as if a grown woman crawling around the air vents of a building wasn’t extremely weird. “I’ve got scanners and shit up there so we know it’s safe. Dusty and gross, since we hadn’t been around much for a few months and I’ve been looking for a new place, somewhere with higher ceilings, you know, and maybe some of those exposed beams, those are nice.”

Eliot stared at him.

Hardison waved a hand. “Lemme just get you those files.”

-

Hardison’s files were comprehensive, and Parker’s knowledge of the apartment’s topography thorough. His own plans in place, Eliot went out to get the equipment he’d need. Iron, rowan, salt, all those were already stockpiled at the apartment, but he wanted his own collection of charms and tricks, as well as fresh greenery. By the time he’d come back, Ford was muttering to himself in varying nasal voices, Deveraux was on her phone, and Hardison was rifling through a box of costumes. Parker was out of sight.

“Hey,” Eliot snapped. “Where’s Parker?”

Hardison looked up. “In the vents. I told you, it’s where she goes to relax.”

“Can she come out of the vents?” Eliot asked.

“Yeah, man. Oh, you can dump your stuff in the spare room. Made it up for you and the door’s open so it airs. It’s the one with all the blue paintings on the walls.”

“Those are  _ Monets _ ,” Sophie muttered.

If they weren’t Monets, they were very good forgeries. Eliot set his bags down on the floor by the bed and turned around to see Parker standing in the doorway.

“Jesus,” Eliot swore. “You’re sneaky.”

“I’m a thief,” Parker said simply, like that explained how she could sneak up on someone with his level of training and paranoia.

“Uh huh,” Eliot said, getting his heart under control. “We need to set down some ground rules, okay?”

Parker scowled. “Fine.”

“You first, then.”

“Oh.” Parker’s face did a complicated thing, as if several emotions were fighting for dominance. “Okay. Can I think about it?”

“Sure.” Eliot opened his kitbag and started emptying it of anything useful.

“What are those?” Parker asked, poking a jam jar full of dry leaves.

“Four leaf clovers. Not as good dry, but they still cancel out glamor.” He looked up. “Are you wearing your clothes inside out?”

“Yeah.” Parker plucked at the baggy red t-shirt she was wearing. “I didn’t have any red, so this is Hardison’s.”

“Good.”

“I don’t like it when people touch me,” Parker said suddenly. “And sometimes I don’t understand stuff everyone else does so you’ll have to explain it to me.” She glared at him.

Eliot nodded. “Anything else?”

“No horses or clowns.”

“I don’t think those are going to show up.”

Parker shrugged.

-

Eliot’s ground rules for Parker-watching:

No crawling around in air vents.

Stay away from the windows.

Stay where he can see you.

And where he can reach you, dammit, Parker.

No poking him.

Or moving his stuff.

Or stealing his food.

Is that the third bowl of Lucky Charms today?

Jesus Christ, Parker, fine, eat the goddamn noodles.

-

Hardison came back from day one of the con to Parker saying, “Oh, I’ve been to Australia! I stole the Rosalind Diamond in Perth.”

“Doesn’t count as Australia until you’ve faced up against a kangaroo in a boxing match,” Eliot said, making Parker’s eyes go wide as saucers.

“Bullshit,” Hardison said, causing them both to whip around and stare at him. “No way you boxed against a kangaroo.”

Eliot shrugged. “Plenty of other dangerous things in the outback. Venomous spiders, big snakes, brutal dropbears.”

“Those aren’t real,” Parker told him soberly, as though she hadn’t bought the kangaroo story five seconds ago. “Okay, how about Singapore?”

“Never been,” Eliot said.

“Really? I’ve gone twice. They have amazing banks there.”

“What are you two talking about anyway?” Hardison asked.

“Places we’ve done jobs,” Parker said. “Did you know Eliot’s been to the North Pole? He says he didn’t see Santa, though.”

Hardison and Eliot exchanged a very particular look that said, _ we’re not going to get into this.  _

“Ever been to the Oscars?” Hardison asked.

“Of course I have. I’ve got three,” Parker said.

“Three...Oscar statuettes?” Eliot asked.

“Yep. They’re only gold-plated, though.” Parker made a disappointed moue, then brightened. “Eliot, do you want one?”

“Hey, how come you never offered me one of your Oscars?” Hardison protested.

“They’re heavy, Eliot can use them as blunt instruments,” Parker said. She tipped her head towards Eliot. “So?”

“I’m good,” Eliot told her, oddly touched. “But thanks.”

-

The next few days settled into a kind of routine. Eliot woke up before anyone else in the house. This brought Parker out of her room, and she ate multiple bowls of sugary cereal while he checked the wards and safeguards on the apartment, grumbling at charms that drained faster than they should. Then he made himself breakfast, slapping Parker’s hands away before she did something weird, like add a fistful of Froot Loops to his coffee or cover his toast in mustard. The smell of coffee woke up Hardison, who stumbled into the kitchen, smacked a kiss on whatever part of Parker he could reach, and drowned his coffee in sugar. He didn’t eat breakfast, but he did operate on autopilot for a good ten minutes. On the second day, Eliot watched in horror as Hardison absentmindedly ate the slice of toast that Parker had managed to despoil with Fruit by the Foot and sriracha.

Then Hardison would wake up properly and go off to meet up with Ford and Deveraux, and Eliot would be left with Parker, who had a rare talent of finding loopholes in his instructions. No going into the vents? Ceiling beams it is. Stay within reach? Technically he could reach her if she sat on top of the bookcase.

This got frustrating enough that Hardison came back one night to find Eliot in the kitchen, angrily stirring a pot of chili.

“Smells good,” Hardison ventured, and got a grunt in return.

Hardison shrugged and left the living room. He came back fifteen minutes later and sat down at the kitchen counter.

“So,” he said. “I hear you scared Parker.”

Eliot grunted.

“I know you’ve got that cool macho thing going on, but when you freak my girl out you gotta give me a bit of a better explanation.”

“Freaked out,” Eliot said.

“Yeah, man. She’s being stabby.”

Eliot growled. “No, I mean  _ I _ freaked out.” He uncovered a pot of potatoes and took it over to the sink to pour out the boiling water. “She disappeared while I was redoing the salt lines and I freaked.”

“So you yelled at her.”

“Yeah.” Eliot set down the pot. “I know I scared her. I’m sorry.”

“What’re you apologizing to me for? Parker’s the one who’s stabbing a pillow to death.” Hardison shook his head. “I gotta be honest with you, it doesn’t fill me with confidence that you freaked over her going missing for five minutes.”

“Half an hour.”

Hardison nodded. “Worse, but still.”

Eliot took a deep breath. “Do you know why I took this job?”

“Uh, cause we’re paying you a lot of money?”

Eliot cracked a smile. “It didn’t hurt, but no. I’ve worked with the Fair Folk before. Hell, I used to work for one.”

“You  _ what _ ?”

“Believe me, it’s not a happy memory. Suffice to say, I made a deal with them and I paid the price. I saw changelings working for M- for the Lords and Ladies. Some human and some Gentry. I saw how they were treated. I don’t want anything like that to happen to anyone else, especially not Parker.”

Hardison raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a good person.”

“Weird as fuck, though.”

Eliot laughed. “Ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag.”

Hardison leaned against the counter. “Y’know, Parker’s already had that rough life you saw. Maybe not as bad, but still. She may be nuts, but she’s tough and she’s smart. She can take care of herself.”

“Why am I here, then?”

“Cause we care about her and want her to be safe,” Hardison said. Behind him, Parker came out of her room and crept silently into the living room.

Eliot turned back to the chili to hide his smile. “We?”

“Me and Nate and Sophie. And you.” Hardison’s grin was blinding. “You’re part of the Parker-family now too. Also, you’re here because if someone doesn’t watch Parker she does stupid ass dangerous shit like jumping off fifty story building.”

“Jumping off a building isn’t dangerous,” Parker said from behind Hardison.

To his credit, Hardison only jumped a little. “Isn’t – babe, you know you don’t have wings, right?”

“I don’t need to fly if I’ve got a magical harness.”

“It’s not magical if you just -”

Eliot tuned them out and turned back to the food, splitting three potatoes in half and loading them with the chili.

“Is that for us?” Parker asked, leaning over the counter to peer at the bowls of food.

“No, I’m going to eat all this by myself,” Eliot said, handing her a bowl with a fork in it.

Parker accepted the bowl, inhaling the steam. “Spicy.”

“Just a little.” Eliot gave Hardison his own bowl. “How much did you hear, Parker?”

“All of it. You were loud.” Parker gave him a sideways look.

“Good,” he told her. “I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

“I’m sorry for hiding in the linen closet after you asked me not to.”

“The linen– of course you hid in the linen closet.”

“It’s where I keep souvenirs.”

“Souvenirs.” Eliot pictured a collection of tacky snowglobes and magnets lined up among the pillow cases.

“Things I steal on jobs for fun,” Parker said placidly.

“Just give up,” Hardison told him. “Parker can fit anywhere. Woman’s basically a cat. Man, this chili is amazing.”

“I’m very flexible,” Parker agreed through a mouthful of meat.

Eliot watched the two of them stuffing their faces and felt something inside him loosen.

-

Hardison was around more the next few days. He was easy for Eliot to work around, just sat himself down in front of a computer and tapped away. Parker was happier, which meant she put up less resistance to staying in one place. It should have made Eliot’s job easier.

It should’ve, but hell, he’d take Parker’s constant complaints about the smell of the St. John’s Wort oil he’d soaked into the window frames over  _ this _ .

“Why does rowan work?” Hardison asked. He had his laptop open in front of him, but instead of focusing on his work he was following Eliot’s rounds.

“I don’t know, it just does.”

“Yeah, but why? There’s almost no research about defenses against the Good People, you know? I guess they’d try to discourage it, but that doesn’t mean…”

Eliot listened with half an ear as Hardison rambled on about the innate curiosity of scientists and the stubbornness of nerds who’d heard ‘no’ too many times. It was almost soothing, a good steady rhythm of thinking out loud from someone who could think in silence perfectly well.

“…I mean, you wouldn’t need very expensive equipment and it’s not like the Folk track every single chemistry kit anyone’s ever bought and incognito mode exists for a reason. Not that particular reason though, ha, definitely not, but when life gives you untraceable VPNs, you know?”

“Fear does most of the work for them,” Eliot said, inspecting the drying wreath stuck to the inside of the front door. Ought to have lasted a few days more. Fey must be close, not that anyone had thought otherwise. “Fear and tradition and habit.”

“A million dead people can’t be wrong,” Hardison said drily.

Eliot huffed a laugh and moved on to the next wreath. This one was hooked over a picture frame on an outer wall, and it was just as brown and dry as the first one. Time to replace them both. “Hey, did you get me the fern I asked for?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Hardison?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, course I did. It’s in the fridge. The lady at the shop said they’d last longer that way.”

“Good.” Eliot grabbed the two dead wreaths and turned to Hardison, who was staring at something around waist height. “You okay?”

“Yuuuup,” Hardison said, looking up and giving Eliot a grin that practically reeked of sunshine and happiness.

Shit.

-

“Hardisonnnnn,” Parker whined.

“Woman, what is wrong with you?” Hardison grumbled, face an inch from his laptop screen. He could hardly sit up straight with Parker clinging to his back like a monkey, but to be fair to her, he’d been bent over the laptop since he’d woken up.

“I’m bored and you haven’t moved all day.”

“Go bother Eliot, it’s what he’s here for.”

“That is not what I’m here for,” Eliot growled. “And she’s right, you need to take a break. You haven’t eaten for six hours.”

“I have my orange soda.”

“That is  _ not _ food.” Eliot plunked a glass of water and a granola bar next to Hardison. “Eat, and I’ll peel Parker off you.”

“You can try,” Parker said ominously, but she kissed Hardison on the ear and clambered off his back. “Can I have a granola bar too?”

Eliot shrugged and offered her the box.

“’s blueberry,” Hardison mumbled with his mouth full. He swallowed. “Got peanut butter?”

Parker shrugged and upended the box in Hardison’s lap. “Here.” She sat down next to him, head on his shoulder. “Better?”

“Yeah. Shit, this job is exhausting. We keep uncovering more and more of this guy’s shady businesses. I swear he’s involved in every nasty deal this side of the Charles River.”

“Sorry,” Parker says.

Hardison shook his head. “Nah, this guy’s an asshole. We would’ve taken him down at some point, right? Better to do it with backup.”

“I guess,” Parker said, but she curled around Hardison anyway. “It’s nice to have backup.”

“Yeah,” Hardison said, wrapping an arm around her and leaning over to murmur in her ear.

They fell asleep like that, under Eliot’s watchful gaze.

-

The next morning Hardison came out of his and Parker’s room dressed like an electrician, complete with bright yellow vest and hard hat that Parker immediately stole.

“Kiss for luck?” Parker asked him before he left. She was presenting  a calm façade, but she was also practically vibrating in place.

“I thought you didn’t believe in luck?” Hardison teased her, but he kissed her anyway, and she set the hat on his head. Then he was out the door for the day.

He didn’t come back.

And the comms, when Parker finally dug hers out from where Hardison had hidden them because ‘Parker you’re distracting Nate’, were silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Fairies" by William Allingham.


	2. beyond the fields we know

Nothing on the comms. Nothing on the phone. No emails. No texts.

“Sometimes this happens,” Parker murmured. She was curled up on the couch, half a dozen phones scattered around her. “Maybe the magic is messing with the reception.” She didn’t sound convinced, and as the clock showed one, then two, then three in the morning, her face became stonier and stonier.

By the time the sun came up, neither of them had slept. Parker had stared off into space. Eliot, worried that this was the prelude to an explosion and relieved that she hadn’t disappeared into the vents, went through his usual routine on automatic. His job was to protect Parker. He’d stick by her, no matter what.

So when Parker unfolded from the couch and padded into the kitchen, he handed her the Coco Puffs. He watched as she ate and stretched methodically. He waited in the living room when she went to her and Hardison’s room and came back with her hair slicked back into a ponytail, in what was evidently her version of work clothes - all black, nothing loose that could catch or tangle. She was also dragging a big wheeled whiteboard behind her, which she positioned in the middle of the living room.

“Sometimes low tech works best,” she said when she saw him staring. Then she got to work.

Eliot hadn’t been involved in the con at all, but from what he’d seen, Hardison’s notes had been good. Parker’s whiteboard was like one of those crazy conspiracy walls where Roswell aliens were connected to George Bush with red string, except it made sense. There was clear logic behind it, paired with a mind like a jello Rubik’s cube.

“We missed something,” she told Eliot. “Yesterday should have gone smoothly. It was the least risky part of the entire con, easy infiltration. Hardison should have been  _ fine _ .”

“Sometimes cons just go wrong,” Eliot told her absently, squinting at a blueprint she’d taped to the board.

“Not my cons,” Parker said tartly. “I should have been in the field with them.”

“Would’ve kind of defeated the whole point. They’d have caught you immediately.”

“I know—” Parker’s eyes went wide.

“What? What is it?”

Parker held up a finger. “Shhhh! Alec? Can you hear me?”

Eliot froze.

“Where are you?” Worry and relief warred on her face. “Did you have any ID on you?” Parker bit her lip. “Okay, Stay there, I’m coming to get you. I don’t care!” She turned away from Eliot. “I don’t care, I’m— Fine, I’ll stay here. Eliot will go. Okay? Eliot will pick you up.”

She looked at Eliot.

“Give me five minutes,” Eliot said.

-

He collected a grey-faced Hardison from BMC. Although thankfully uninjured, Hardison was still recovering from the blast of magic that had knocked both him and his comms out. He was uncharacteristically quiet on the way back to the apartment. When Parker opened the door for them, he latched onto her, squeezing her hand as if he would never let go again.

“They made me the second I walked into the building,” he told them. “Like they could fucking sense me through all the protections. Nate noticed something had gone wrong and told me to run. Still got zapped before I got out, though. And they got him and Sophie.” He shook his head, expression miserable.

Hardison was always so full of energy and cheer. Him being so upset was  _ wrong _ . But worse was Ford and Deveraux being taken. Eliot had interacted with them a lot less than he had with Parker and Hardison, but they were clever, interesting people, and they treated him like a human being, not an automaton. Eliot knew plenty about what happened to people who found themselves at the mercy of fey who felt that they’d been wrong. No one deserved that.

“We’ll get them back,” Parker promised. “What you said fits with my theory.”

“What theory?” Eliot asked.

“I came up with it when you were picking up Hardison. Why were they after me? It started after the job Hardison and I did for that art student, but that shouldn’t have drawn this much attention to us. I think that I picked up some kind of magical residue that made me stand out to them. And you must have picked up the same thing, because they caught you so fast.”

“Maybe,” Hardison said. “But that was a quick in-and-out job. I was never inside the house. What did we both touch?”

“You wouldn’t have had to touch it,” Eliot said slowly. They both turned to look at him. “Parker, did you pick up a souvenir from that job?”

-

Parker’s box of souvenirs was full of a mix of expensive jewelry, knicknacks and garbage. The second Parker dumped the contents out on the living room floor, Eliot could tell that there’s something enchanted in the mix.

“I think this is it,” Parker said, picking out a teddy bear. Maybe once it had been bright blue, but years and use had turned it a dull grey-blue, fur matted over one eye.

“That is one ugly bear,” Hardison said, wrinkling his nose.

“It looked really lonely. It was just sitting on an empty bed and there were so many toys.”

Eliot felt nauseated. The spell on the bear wasn’t even that strong, just long-lasting, and with a strange pervasive, penetrating feel to it. In his mind’s eye, Eliot saw a bed full of enchanted toys, each a lure for a different child, discarded once the fey changeling who’d replaced the child no longer needed it to maintain the illusion of humanity —  either because they truly believed that they were human, or because the parents had found out the truth.

It was a very clear picture, but then again, he’d seen such a thing before.

“Eliot?” Hardison’s touch on his arm made him jump. “You okay?”

“It’s enchanted,” Eliot managed. “Magical lure and glamour residue.”

“That’s what led them to me?” Parker asked dubiously. “I can kind of tell there’s magic in it, but it’s so...old. And I’ve stolen stuff with fey magic on it before and nothing like this happened.”

Eliot shook his head. “It wouldn’t have done anything if you weren’t a human changeling. It’s meant to lure in children for the changeling trade. You were similar enough to its old target that it went on the fritz, and whoever originally cast the spell noticed. I bet they didn’t like the idea of you sticking your nose in their business, maybe interfering, messing up their operation.”

“Their operation,” Hardison repeated. “Their human trafficking operation.”

“Yes, Hardison,” Eliot snapped, more out of worry than anything. “That’s what kidnapping and selling kids is called.”

Hardison held up his hands. “Hey, man, no need to go all Mr. Grumpy on my ass.”

“Mr. Grumpy?”

“Hey, if the shoe fits—”

“We have to stop them,” Parker said, interrupting their argument.

Hardison nodded, accepting. “You got a plan?”

“Yes. But I need Eliot.”

They looked at him, matching hopeful, determined gazes fixed on him, as if they didn’t know that he was already committed. As if he would say no to them now.

God, what was he doing? Rescues were not in the job description. His job was to keep Parker safe and there was no way that this plan was going to be safe, not coming from a woman who thought jumping from buildings was a fun pastime. He should just - go. He could afford the hit to his reputation and to his bank account.

Leaving was the smart thing to do, but Eliot had never claimed to be all that smart.

“What’s the plan?” he asked.

Parker grinned like a goblin. “Let’s go steal Nate and Sophie back.”

-

“I look like an idiot,” Eliot grumbled, tugging at the cuffs of the flashy leather jacket Parker had insisted he should wear.

“You look like a scary ninja,” Hardison corrected, not even looking up from his laptop screen. He himself was wearing a cheap suit.

“This shirt is too tight.”

At this Hardison looked up and gave him a slow once-over. “Nah man, it looks good.”

Eliot scowled. “No self-respecting criminal would ever wear this shit.”

“I’ve seen mob guys wearing tracksuits, so I don’t know about that. But if you think it’ll give you away then there’s more clothes in the back.” Hardison jerked a thumb towards the back of the van.

Right on cue, Parker opened the doors and hopped in, dressed in a suit just like Hardison’s. “I’m banned from the fey realm again,” she declared.

“Technically you were already banned, Archie just scammed you off the official list ‘cause you’re his favorite,” Hardison muttered.

“You’re just mad because he threatened you,” Parker told him dismissively.

“Uh, yeah!”

Parker rolled her eyes. “Have you found their way into the fey realm?”

“I analyzed their movements and it looks like it’s somewhere in the Back Bay Fens.”

“Somewhere?” Eliot asked incredulously. “That’s pretty damn wide.”

Hardison shrugged. “That’s the best I can do. Maybe if I had a few days, I could pinpoint it for you, but there’s shit to do and not much time to do it in, and they’re gonna lead us to it anyways.”

“Back Bay Fens is good enough,” Parker said. “I’ll tell Archie. Eliot, are you ready?”

“Yes,” Eliot said, and pretended not to notice Hardison smirking at him.

“Good. Hardison?”

“Girl, you know that the second I mentioned Agent Hagen, McSweeten jumped on the chance to see you.” Hardison leaned back in his chair, grinning upside-down at Parker. “He says hi, by the way.”

“Aww,” Parker said. “Eliot, tell him hi from me when you see him.”

“Sure, I’ll give your regards to the FBI,” Eliot growled. “Can we get a move on already?”

“He’s grumpy because of the clothes you picked out for him,” Hardison said, but he jammed a baseball cap on his head and made his way to the driver’s seat.

“Really?” Parker cocked her head, looking Eliot over. “I think it looks good.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Whatever,” Eliot said, fighting down a smile.

-

For all Parker’s strategic genius, the execution of her plan was pretty straightforward. Eliot spent hours lurking around places of business, looking as suspicious as he could and trying to ignore the chatter in his earbud.

“I mean, I’m looking at their cameras right now — and let me tell you, they really need to upgrade their equipment — and you’re not even inside the legal perimeter—”

“I know how to lurk, Hardison!”

“Just move five feet to the left, man, that’s all I’m asking.”

Eliot moved five feet to the left. But angrily, so Hardison wouldn’t get the wrong message.

“Okay, it looks like they’re sending out security,” Hardison said in his ear. “Time to move on.”

“I can deal with security.”

“You don’t have to deal with security!”

“Fine!” Eliot gave one last sneer to the security guy coming out of the building — ex-Coast Guard, very distinctive walk — and swaggered away as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

The faeries they were after had their fingers in a worrying amount of pies. Eliot found himself lurking outside all kinds of businesses — everything from garages to community centers to a hipster coffee shop.

“Don’t eat anything,” Hardison told him when he entered the cafe.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eliot muttered, glancing at the oddly colored mason jars on display. A little chalkboard sign proclaimed they were turmeric cheesecakes. “I don’t really do avocado lattes.”

“Avocado goes in coffee?” Parker asked.

“No,” Eliot said vehemently, sitting down at a corner table and startling the overly cool college students at the next table over. “Avocado doesn’t belong in a goddamned cup of coffee!”

“What about Lucky Charms?”

“ _ No _ , Parker.”

-

The last stop was an unmarked van right in front of Learmont’s building, the same building Hardison had failed to infiltrate with Nate and Sophie. Well, mostly unmarked. You could still make out the letters ‘FB’ if you squinted.

“Are you sure about this guy?” Eliot asked.

“McSweeten’s nice,” Parker said. “And he’s not as dumb as you think. I asked him to make sure that it’s obvious he’s FBI.”

Eliot knocked on the side of the van, and a man wearing a bad suit and an FBI vest opened the door.

Pretty damn obvious, all right. “Agent McSweeten? I’m Agent Hagen’s contact, Oliver Hayes. She says hi?”

“Right, right, come on in.”

The van was surprisingly roomy. McSweeten saw Eliot’s appraising look and smiled sheepishly. “Honestly, since this isn’t a real stake out, I just took one of our vans that was due for repainting. Usually we’d be surrounded by computer equipment.”

“Sure,” Eliot said.

They sat together in silence for a while. Then McSweeten said, “So, uh, how’s Agent Hagen doing?”

“She’s doing good,” Eliot said.

“That’s good.” McSweeten nodded. “Uh, do you know her very well?”

“Not really.”

“Oh. Okay.” McSweeten nodded again. “So, um. You probably don’t know if she’s...seeing anybody?”

Eliot made sure his face was very, very blank. “Nope.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” McSweeten said. “Um. She’s nice, isn’t she.”

Eliot concentrated on not reacting, but it wasn’t easy. He hadn’t heard such a pathetic hook for information in years.

“I just— well, she’s so pretty. And she smells really good. And she’s smart, you know? Good at her job.” He paused. “I mean, it’s not like I ever really—” McSweeten shook his head. “You’re not interested in this, sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Eliot said. “She seems nice.” Way to understate it. Parker wasn’t nice; she was a dynamo with razors on.

“Yeah,” McSweeten sighed. It was sweet, in an awful way.

“Aw man,” Hardison sighed in his ear. “You know Parker never led him on, right? She’s still not great at social cues and she doesn’t really get that he’s into her, no matter how many times we explain it.”

Still, Eliot thought, sitting in the FBI van and waiting for Hardison to give him the OK to leave, just because Parker couldn’t see anybody that wasn’t Hardison didn’t mean she wasn’t breaking hearts.

“She would never let anyone think they had a chance if they didn’t,” Hardison continued. “Also, you can go now.”

-

Eliot was just outside their actually unmarked van when Hardison gave a triumphant whoop in his ear. When he ducked inside, he was greeted by Hardison’s enormous triumphant grin. It was like getting knocked back onto his ass with a spotlight.

“They took the bait,” Hardison said. “I am  _ good _ . I am goddamn fantastic at what I do. I fed them false info and they ate out of my hand like chickens.”

“It’s pretty obvious you’ve never fed a chicken.”

Hardison flapped a hand at him. “Nope, you can’t bring me down. We are right on track.”

“We’re not done yet,” Eliot reminded him, but he couldn’t help but grin right back.

“Yeah, Hardison, don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Parker said in their earpieces.

Eliot snickered.

Hardison threw him a wounded look. “Really? Really, Parker?”

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Parker asked innocently. Eliot was ninety percent sure that she was joking.

“Nobody appreciates me,” Hardison said, sniffing.

“Aww, babe, I appreciate you,” Parker said,. “And so does Eliot, right, Eliot?”

“I guess,” Eliot said, for the amused snort Parker made, and so he wouldn’t say the lewd  _ oh, I appreciate him all right, _ he wanted to say.

“Rude,” Hardison muttered. “So rude — hey, here we go.” This in response to an orchestra of beeps from his computer. “Looks like Learmont is preparing to move out.”

“What, so soon?” Eliot asked, leaning over Hardison’s shoulder to look at the screen. It was overloaded with images and text, a thousand calls for attention at once. Who knew how Hardison made heads or tails of the onslaught.

Hardison nodded, fingers dancing across the keyboard. “It’s a small operation, so they can move fast. I set up a program to monitor any calls, emails, basically anything coming in or out. This is code, but I cracked it easily enough. They’re giving a heads up and bailing on the op, at least until everything quiets down. They’re taking anything that might incriminate them, including the humans. Damn, that’s creepy.”

“Good,” Parker said. “Call McSweeten, tell him to be ready.”

“Yeah, let me just grow another hand and I’ll get right on that.”

“Eliot, you better make the call and hold the phone up to his ear,” Parker said. Eliot could practically hear the eyeroll. “We’re three people now, remember?”

“It’s pretty unforgettable,” Hardison said. He held still for Eliot to press his phone to his ear, not seeming to notice how gingerly Eliot was holding the phone, so as not to make contact with any warm, smooth skin. “Agent McSweeten, how you doing? It’s Thomas. Good, good. Yeah, it looks like they’re about to move soon, so stay alert and call when they do. You too. Bye.”

Eliot withdrew the phone and hung up. “I’m gonna get us moving.”

“Be gentle with Lucille, okay? She’s my baby.”

“Hardison, stop worrying about Lucille, we’re trying to rescue Nate and Sophie,” Parker said.

The mood sobered immediately. Eliot hadn’t exactly forgotten that this was a rescue mission, but he’d put it to the back of his head. Now the importance of the job was back in the forefront, although part of him was still dwelling on that dazzling smile Hardison had given him.

Now there was no trace of that smile. Hardison’s entire body squared up for a fight. Still, his voice was gentle. “We haven’t forgotten, Parker. We’re going to get them back.”

“I know,” Parker said.

“I’m gonna—” Eliot jerked his thumb towards the front of the van.

“Yeah.”

They were nearly to Learmont’s building when Hardison’s phone rang.

“Agent Thomas speaking. Got it. Thanks.”

“Go time?” Eliot called.

“Car chase time,” Parker said, satisfaction in her tone.

“Thank god you’re not driving, Parker,” Hardison said. “I like not being smeared all over the road.”

-

“Who taught you to fucking drive?” Hardison screeched, as Eliot wove around a beat up Chevy and nearly upended a motorcycle.

“Army,” Eliot lied.

“Lucille isn’t a tank, Eliot!”

“This is a car chase, Hardison!” Eliot dove into a gap in traffic and off into a side street. Ahead, the cultivated edges of Back Bay fens drew near. Damnit, he was actually chasing fey. There had to be some irony in that, given he’d been hired to keep them away.

“What are you doing?”

“Following the people that kidnapped your friends!” A tree branch dragged against the side of the van. The car ahead of him plunged into a mass of greenery, and Eliot followed.

“Eliot, you are paying for Lucille’s new paint job when this is all over!”

“Dammit, Hardison,” Eliot growled.

“Hardison,” Parker said suddenly. She rattled off a set of coordinates.

“Woah, slow down and say those again.”

Parker repeated the list of numbers, slowing down only minimally, but it was enough for Hardison to write them down.

“Okay, I’m sending them to McSweeten so he can give them to his people. You going in?”

“Very soon.”

“Good luck.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” Parker said. “That’s what  _ they _ use. I’m just good.”

“Damn right,” Hardison said.

“I’m going in,” Parker said, and then there was an almighty screech.

“Fuck,” Eliot yelled. “What was that?”

“Magic interference,” Hardison said. “Here, drive down that path. She’s crossed over. If everything’s gone to plan, we’ll be hearing from her in the next few minutes.

“And if it hasn’t?”

“Then we don’t,” Hardison said, voice breaking. “Through those trees.”

Eliot drove through the trees and slammed the brakes. He didn’t need Hardison’s “we’re here”; he was already throwing the van into park. There were feds everywhere, and the car he’d been following, but he didn’t need any of that to see there was a faerie portal right in front of him. A round bridge arced over a river, reflecting perfectly in the water to create a circle. Although a breeze rippled the water, the reflection didn’t move. If there was such a thing as a guide on how to spot portals, this spot would have been on the cover.

They were both out of the car in a shot, Hardison quickly introducing himself as Agent Thomas to the feds. Eliot ignored the uniformed men around him and cut straight through to the foot of the bridge. Every sense of the uncanny he’d cultivated during his years with Moreau was screaming at him to keep his distance, but he held his ground. The crossing-over would be at the middle of the bridge, that was how faeries’ brains worked. He was safe.

Hardison came over to stand next to him. “I wish Sophie was here,” he said. “She can see through most glamours. She’d be able to see straight through the portal.”

Eliot grunted noncommittally. He’d known people who could see through glamour, and this portal was a lot less disguised than most. But because it was so obviously amateur work it could have been extremely dangerous for Deveraux to look into it. Portals warped reality, and that kind of thing could fuck with your mind.

“It’s been five minutes already,” Hardison said.

“Two more minutes,” Eliot said. “Maybe four.”

“Seven or nine, huh?”

“They like multiples of three. And seven. Dunno why.”

Hardison kept his eyes on his watch. Eliot kept his eyes on the bridge.

One minute passed like an eternity, every second that passed impressing on Eliot how wrong this situation was for the life he’d built for himself. After Moreau, he’d made a career out of keeping the Fair Folk away from others. And now here he was, waiting by a portal into their world. Who knew who - or what - would come out of that portal. The natural fight-or-flight instinct  every human got around the fey was screaming at him.

Two.

But instinct only got you so far. Control, that was what Moreau had taught him. Control let him keep standing there, listening to Hardison’s rapid breathing and the feds’ chatter and the wrongness coming from the portal. Control kept him from reaching out to hold Hardison’s hand, because that wasn’t his place, like it hadn’t been his place to hold Parker while she waited for Hardison to contact them. Control kept his eyes on the portal.

Three.

But control wasn’t what had brought him here.

Four.

The air above the bridge rippled, and Parker emerged, Nate Ford and Sophie Deveraux leaning against her from each side. Behind her came two fey, looking decidedly non-human. The taller of the two was frowning, an expression completely at odds with their big silvery wings and slightly glowing skin. The shorter fey was dressed like an extra from Oliver Twist, but they had a smirk like a leopard that had just eaten. There were too many teeth in it.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Hardison breathed, rushing forward to help Parker. “Thank Jesus, Parker, I was terrified. Never do that again.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not,” she said. They stared at each other for a second, and then Hardison slung Nate’s free arm across his shoulders so he could stop leaning on Parker.

“I’m so happy to see you, Nate,” he said.

“Right back at you,” Ford said, voice strained. “But if we could sit down, that would be great.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Hey Spencer,” Ford said, nodding at him.

“Oh, leave him alone, Nate,” Deveraux said, sounding just as tired. “Look at his face.”

Four people looked at Eliot’s face.

“I think he’s shocked because that lady’s in charge of maintaining all the borders to Over There,” Parker said.

“What? Parker!” Deveraux stared at the winged faerie. “That’s basically the Good Folk’s Minister of Defence!”

“That’s Fair Folk Chuck Hagel,” Ford said, blinking.

“I don’t know who that is,” Parker said.

“She’s very important,” Eliot said. “You can tell because of the distinctive way her skin glows. That’s pure magic. You can’t fake it.”

“No, you can not,” said the winged faerie, coming to a halt in front of Eliot, feet firmly still on the stone of the bridge instead of the earth of Boston. “Greetings to you all.”

“Greetings to you as well,” Eliot said, slipping back into the old patterns of speech. “We are honored by your presence.”

The faerie nodded. “I have come to express the Faerie Courts’ gratitude for drawing our attention to a gap in our borders, as well as bringing a group of changeling-smugglers to justice.”

“We were only trying to rescue our friends.”

“Nevertheless, we owe you a favor.”

Eliot gulped.

“The group your team brought to us was not working alone. They were only a small branch of a far larger tree.” The winged faerie raised an eyebrow. “They are headed by a person I believe you know, Eliot Spencer.”

Eliot felt a shiver run through him. “Moreau.”

The faerie nodded. “I would like to offer you assistance in hunting him down.”

“That’s a big job,” Eliot said.

“Well, of course you would have to build up to it. A few years, perhaps. In the meantime, you would have...protection. Support. Resources, if you needed them, to hunt changeling smugglers. You would only need to ask.”

“And would we be free to pursue other tasks?” Hardison interrupted. “Your Ladyship.”

“Of course. I’ve no interest in hobbling you.”

“Just in recruiting us,” Parker said.

“Exactly. Take some time to think about it. If you would like to hear more…” The winged faerie held out a silvery rectangle. “My business card.”

Eliot took it, bemused.

The winged faerie nodded. “Well, I must be back.” She swept away, disappearing halfway across the bridge, leaving the second faerie behind.

“Archie, what was that?” Parker demanded.

“My dear,” the remaining faerie said, grinning and rubbing their hands together, “that was me helping.”

“I asked for you to put me back on the no-entrance watchlist, not to bring the most important person you know.”

Archie shrugged. “Oh,  Aoife  owed me a favor. Consider it a birthday present.”

“You never gave me any birthday presents,” Parker said.

Archie’s smile was a little sheepish. “Well, I suppose it’s time to start making up for lost time. I’m sorry, Parker, I do need to go. Aoife will close the portal soon, and you know how I dislike the legal border crossings.”

“Yeah, they always confiscate all the stuff you stole.”

“Precisely.” Archie gave Eliot a look full of cool evaluation. “You’ll do, I suppose. Keep safe, Parker.”

“You too, Archie.”

“I do not like that guy,” Hardison said, as Archie disappeared through the portal.

“Really? He likes you.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Yes he does. And Eliot. He likes Eliot too.”

Eliot turned around to face everyone else. Parker and Hardison blinked innocently at him.

“Well,” Deveraux said. “That was terrifying. I want to go home now.”

“Good plan,” Ford agreed.

“I’ll drive,” Hardison offered, earning himself grateful looks all around. “Let me just tell the FBI they can go home.”

-

“Tell me how you did it,” Ford says over lunch.

“When you guys got caught, Hardison managed to escape. I realized that something had set off their alarms when he broke in — the same thing that had made them start following me. A magical trace. Eliot figured out that it was residue from something I stole on a previous job. It had a spell on it to lure children in to be smuggled across the border between here and Over There. I was a changeling, so I set off their alarms.”

“Oh, Parker,” Deveraux said, leaning over to pat her on the hand.

Parker smiled at her. “Eliot stalked all the businesses Learmont’s group was involved in and Hardison planted information to make it look like he was from a rival group, staking them out for attack. I asked Agent McSweeten to pretend to watch them, so it looked like a group with Eliot Spencer  _ and _ the FBI on their side was after them. Hardison found where their portal was. It was close, and they were a small group. They could end up in serious trouble if they stayed here, but if they retreated through an unwatched, unprotected gap in the border to safety, they could regroup. And of course they’d take you two, because they could sell you.”

Deveraux shuddered. “Thank you for that.”

“Sorry,” Parker said. “We had the FBI stake out the portal and I was ready to jump in after Learmont to set off the alarms, so we could turn Learmont’s group in and I could make sure you two got back.”

“And you did. You got us back,” Ford said. He looked around at them, Parker sitting at the table for once, Hardison next to her, Eliot leaning against the kitchen counter. “Thank you. All of you.”

“We wouldn’t have left you behind,” Hardison said.

“We know,” Ford said. He exchanged a glance with Deveraux. “I think we need to get some sleep.”

“And a shower,” Deveraux said. “God, I stink.”

“You can stay here if you want,” Hardison offered.

“No, I think a hotel,” Ford said. “We’ll leave you three to sort things out.”

“Ooh, the Envoy,” Deveraux said, stretching delicately. She got up, kissing Parker and Hardison on the cheek. Then she came over to Eliot. “Thank you for sticking by them.”

“It’s my job,” Eliot replied automatically.

Deveraux shook her head. “I think we’re a little past that.” She kissed him on the cheek, and she and Ford left, arm in arm.

“Sleep sounds good,” Parker said.

“Yeah, we’ve all been up for more than 24 hours.”

“I need a nap. And cuddles.”

“I can give you both of those.” Hardison looked over his shoulder at Eliot. “You joining us?”

“For cuddles?” Eliot asked. That would be...awful. And wonderful.

“I think you’d be good at cuddles,” Parker said. “And pretzels.”

Eliot blinked. “I can make pretzels.”

“No cooking,” Hardison said firmly, wrapping a hand around Eliot’s wrist and tugging him along.

-

Eliot woke up disoriented and way too warm. He was being spooned from the back, and there was a weight on his stomach.

“G’back to sleep, Eliot,” Hardison grumbled, and snuggled up closer behind him.

But Eliot couldn’t. He was in bed with Parker and Hardison, and sure, they hadn’t done anything and everyone was dressed, but it was weird. Hardison was cuddling him. Parker had a leg slung over his stomach, because apparently she starfished in her sleep. This was—

“I can hear you thinking,” Parker said, gathering up her limbs and moving around to peer into Eliot’s face. “Stop it.”

“I can’t stop thinking, Parker,” Eliot growled.

“You’re thinking that this is weird and that you should go,” Parker said, leaving Eliot breathless. “You’re wrong. You should stay.”

“She’s right, you know,” Hardison says, words buzzing against the back of Eliot’s neck. “You should stay. We want you to.”

“So, what, you ambushed me in bed to seduce me into working with you?”

“Nobody’s seducing anybody,” Hardison said. He withdrew the arm around Eliot’s middle, drawing away and leaning up on one arm. “We want you to work with us, sure. We make a good team. But we also want you to be with us.”

“We really like you,” Parker said. “Hardison likes your shoulders.”

Hardison spluttered. “Parker!”

“Well, so do I,” Parker said. “They’re nice. And I like your eyes and when you tease Hardison and that you apologize when you get angry and you respect my boundaries and when you cook for us.”

“I think you’ve overwhelmed him with the compliments, babe.”

“You two are insane,” Eliot managed.

“Probably,” Hardison said. “I mean, we weren’t planning on ambushing you with feelings, but  _ somebody  _ doesn’t know the meaning of patience.”

“He was going to run off on us,” Parker protested.

“I wouldn't!” Eliot said.

“It’s okay if you want to, man. No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“But we really, really want you to.”

“You don’t have to decide right now.”

“Even though we’re pretty sure you like us back.”

“And we could take it slow—”

“Shut up, Hardison,” Eliot interrupted.

Hardison’s face closed up. “Sorr-”

Eliot kissed him. “Your mouth tastes disgusting.”

“I just woke up!”

“I want a kiss too,” Parker said, clambering over Eliot to plant a kiss on his mouth. “You have a good mouth.”

“Thanks, Parker,” Eliot said gruffly.

“So…?” Hardison petered off, looking hopeful.

“I’m seriously screwed up,” Eliot said. “I have scars everywhere, I have a crazy amount of hangups, I have a past full of really bad shit and a ton of enemies.”

“Same,” Hardison said. “Except for the scars.”

“We’re weird too,” Parker told him. “But Hardison and I figured it out, so we think we can figure it out with you too. And you can tell us to back off any time, no hard feelings.”

“Well, I might cry a little,” Hardison said lightly.

“He cries at movies sometimes,” Parker said.

“Everyone cries during The Lion King!”

Parker ignored him. “Eliot? Do you want to date us?”

“Fine,” Eliot said.

“Nice,” Hardison said. Then Parker leaned over to kiss him in celebration, planting a knee in Eliot’s ribs, which made Eliot shoot up in pain, which knocked Hardison sideways and Parker half-off the bed.

Hardison grinned at the ceiling. “Welcome to Leverage International.”

“That’s us,” Parker said, pulling herself back onto the bed and into Hardison’s lap. “We’re going to need a bigger bed.”

“And a kitchen,” Eliot said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to see what I based the portal scene on, look no further: https://photosbyp.wordpress.com/2012/10/27/back-bay-fens-bridge-boston/  
> Chapter title from "Lords and Ladies" by Terry Pratchett.

**Author's Note:**

> This challenge was a lot of fun, and it was definitely, well, challenging! So thank you to the Leverage Big Bang people for this opportunity.  
> And as always, thanks to rhien, for her priceless and very last-minute beta work.


End file.
